


Ad Coelum

by Nebulad



Series: De Jure [1]
Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Act 3, F/M, Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: The Fatebinder becomes an Archon, and Bleden Mark attempts to impart some practical wisdom to her. It was a much easier task when she was just a clerk who thought he hung the moon.





	Ad Coelum

The Mountain Spire was still as the grave— unusual for how high up they were, but as good as any other conditions for Bleden Mark to watch the newest Archon. Tunon had taken the news stonily and said nothing, retreating into his quarters. Noor’s sibling Fatebinders hadn’t flinched until their master left the room, and then erupted into whispers. Calio, of course, was tasked with relaying the news.

“You can stop lurking, Mark,” Noor hummed, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. He frowned, unmoving. “It’s the Spire. I always know who’s coming and going.”

“Unsettling.” He stepped out from his alcove, stepping behind her and only mildly annoyed by how she didn’t turn to him. Perhaps being an Archon changed the kid a little more than he’d expected it to; he’d tried to keep his hopes down in case she needed to take a short walk off the edge of the Spire, but maybe _hope_ and _expectations_ needed to be managed in tandem.

Then she turned, ignoring the intentionally invasive proximity, and smiled: back to the open air. Still just a flirty, gullible kid. He liked that about her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He knew she wouldn’t fall for it, but tried anyway. “Maybe Tunon ruled against you.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you’d waste time on exposition?” She didn’t even flinch when his hand snapped up to press a dagger to her throat, like she’d expected it. “Tunon wouldn’t send you without giving me a trial.”

Naive, loyal kid. “That kind of trust gets you killed.” Especially with the darkness that pulled at the Adjudicator's form when Kyros had sent down word that Noor was one of them now.

“Guess I’ll die.” She said it almost irritably, as if he were wasting her time. If she became an Archon proper— and she would, he knew— then she’d resemble Tunon more than anyone else; he could see it in her eyes. Mark had spoiled her too much for her to ever shape herself like him, even counting her harrowing training under his watchful eye. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure kid. Maybe I’ll even answer.”

“Will you put the dagger down first?” It dissolved, but he brushed his thumb against the little pink line it’d left in its wake: a threat. Another little indulgence. “Why did you give me your bracer?” She held up her wrist— she wore it still, although he could see the telltale marks of the forge on it.

“Why not?” The answer was cheap, but true.

“It makes me able to move a little like you can. You can’t have needed it to do what you do, otherwise you wouldn’t have given it to me.”

“So?”

She frowned, obviously taking great pains to decide what she wanted to say. He wanted to go back in time and shake himself for not seeing her power sooner; she’d always taken such care to word everything so precisely, like a baby goddamn Kyros. “For you to possess it now would be redundant. Was there ever a time where that wasn’t true?”

He let his eyes drift from her out to her Spire. “Feels a little like house arrest, to be so dependant on something external, doesn’t it Binder?”

“Archon,” she corrected, and he could feel her gaze steadily. “There’s only two options— either it had sentimental value that ran out, or you stopped needing it to do what you do.”

“I told you: I wanted to see your face when you used it.” _Now_ he was being evasive on purpose to get her to admit that she was insecure. It’d make the whole situation a little less surreal for everyone if she could just stay a little bit normal, since she didn’t have the decency to be stupid.

She frowned and huffed, rolling her eyes down to her feet. “If you’re not going to answer then at least don’t talk down to me.” She made a move to walk past him, but his arm darted out to catch her across the abdomen.

“When’d you get so impatient, kid?” He drummed his fingers on her hip bone and she blinked up at him from under her eyelashes. It felt a little different, now that they were on equal footing; less like a game, more like… a fog had cleared from her face. She was brighter, darker, more vivid all at once.

“After having to deal with Ashe and Nerat. If I wait for answers I just look like an idiot.” She squeezed his wrist but didn’t move him, refocusing on his shoulder.

He waited, just to see if she moved, but she’d caught on to him. Learning quick would help her in the long run, but it _wasn’t_ helping him cope with this nearly tangible shift in power; not that he’d lorded it over her or anything, but he’d settled into a comfortable rhythm of mischief and clumsy mortality. _Kid, kid, I’ll stop jumping out at you when you start expecting me._ He’d never thought she’d catch on.

“I think you’ll grow out of the Spires one day. Maybe you’ll even live long enough to outlaw them.” _Not quite kiddo, I see your big wide eyes even when they’re looking away._ She squeezed his wrist tighter, and her fingers lingered for just a heartbeat before she let him go entirely.

“Why are you here? Calio already handed me my summons and filled me in, Tunon obviously doesn’t want me dead—”

“ _That_ is why I’m here; to clear the clouds out of your eyes and make you see what’s in front of you. Tunon hasn’t ordered me to execute you, but he’s _going_ to.” And he had to say something, because the situation got out of hand too fast for anyone to track and Tunon was about to make a mistake. Injustice was going to be served in the man’s beloved court of law in service to paranoia; like he’d forgotten how devoted Noor was to him, how she worked for his good opinion, and how the Court loved her as a sister. She wasn’t reaching for anything that wasn’t already in her grasp.

“Not without a trial,” she said, making to move past him and back inside the Spire. He was in front of her in an instant, scowling— he hadn’t hauled his ass up this death trap for her to turn her back on him.

“Keeping in mind that Tunon doesn’t _need_ to try you in order to sentence you, let’s pretend he’ll let you have your say; what then? What are you going to say to a man who’s already made a ruling?”

“I’ve done nothing illegal.”

“That’s not the _point.”_

She reached out for something corporeal that wasn’t there, grunting in frustration when her hands passed through shadow as if she’d forgotten who she was talking to. “It’s the _only_ point, Mark. Tunon’s whole existence revolves around trials and judgement, and I can track and account for everything I’ve done until this point. He doesn’t have a case against me.”

“That’s a high hope to bet on.” He was already trying to formulate what he’d say when the kid realised what a glaring error in judgement she made, thinking she could trust Tunon to care about her as much as she did him. He hadn’t decided yet if he was going to be smug before he killed her, or try to spare Tunon from the absolute mistake he’d be making. Despite his earlier assessment about hopes and expectations, he leaned in to the grand speech on justice and integrity.

“Are you worried about me?” she asked, giving him a look that wasn’t quite teasing enough to warrant a flippant response. She breezed by him and he let her, catching a curl of black hair around his finger and tugging a little; not enough to hurt, but to chastise.

“Of course not. Just remember this moment when Tunon orders me to cut your throat,” he hummed, catching up to the dip of shadows on her shoulder and halting her entirely. “I’m trying to help you, kid,” he said, his voice low like the wind was gunna catch it and carry it to Tunon before either of them were ready.

“I’m listening,” she murmured back, “I promise. But my only other choice is to ignore my summons.” She reached back to take his wrist and he let her this time, well and truly knowing that she was doing it to be vulnerable. If he was any sort of mentor he’d correct the move, because he _was_ going to kill her if Tunon ordered him to, but she was stark against the darkness of the evening and he’d already spoiled her past the point of no return. It was why she wouldn’t ignore Tunon— she was too loyal, because she’d never been burned.

Maybe that was what needed to happen— hold her feet to the fire and see what kind of survival instinct kicked in. He didn’t _like_ to do it, but he would if it meant she understood that no one would step in for her when it counted. He took his wrist away— physically, dispensing with shadows because they were a game to her. “Your funeral, kid,” he said with an unaffected shrug, ignoring the roiling of irritation in his gut. _Just listen, just get it, I don’t have time to teach you right now._

One look, before he took the easy way back to Court to wait and hope she never came, told him that he would be seeing her soon. “Thank-you,” she said towards empty air, naive and trusting and lovesick as ever. _That’s not how this works, kid, not anymore._

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing blog is here](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com), my text-adventure-dating-sim [Manor Hill](https://nebulous.itch.io/manor-hill) is there, [I do commissions](http://nebulaad.tumblr.com/post/162182264019/writing-commissions), and finally I have a visual novel on the way, with art by [leylses](http://leylses.tumblr.com). Links to that will come when we post the prologue.
> 
> Anyway Tyranny fucking owns and Barik may be secretly hot, but Noor was already in love with this pointy disaster by the time we found out about it. I know I'm preaching to a dead choir here but man.


End file.
